This sweet little girl had done nothing wrong and to do anything else would punish her. Then I’d be no better than my father.
“But I’m not living with him anymore.”
“That’s fair,” Imani whispered.
Hazel gurgled in my arms, completely oblivious.
“I’m being irrational,” I muttered. “This is irrational.”
“It’s not,” they said in unison.
“I’m overreacting?—”
“You’re not. Violet Louise Carter. Look at me,” Cleo said, her tone fierce. “Everything you’re feeling is completely rational.”
“You’ve fallen in love with someone who won’t believe you about your own father.” Imani reached for my hand and squeezed. “That’s devastating.”
The words hurt no matter how true they were.
I hadn’t said it out loud. Hadn’t even fully admitted it to myself until this morning when Julian had smiled at us and my entire world had come crashing down.
But they were right.
I loved him.
God, I loved him.
And he’d dismissed me like I was being hysterical.
“Right.” Cleo grabbed her phone. “We’re making a plan. Now.”
“What?” I blinked at her.
“You need money, housing, and a job.” She started typing. “Let’s sort it.”
Imani pulled out her laptop. “Student loans first. There’s the government scheme, but also the Cambridge hardship fund. And maybe we could find you a sponsor.”
“I don’t qualify for hardship or scholarships,” I said.
I’d spent the three years between eighteen and twenty-one filling out hardship applications and grant requests, desperate to start my degree before my inheritance kicked in. Every single one denied because on paper, I had a wealthy father. None of them cared that he wasn’t giving me a penny.
“You will once you’re officially cut off from Julian.” Cleo grinned, glancing up at me. “Which we’re doing today.”
My stomach flipped. A laugh bubbled up, half-hysterical. They’d gone from comfort to tactical planning in under five minutes. And somehow, impossibly, I felt lighter than I had all morning.
“You’re twenty-six. You’re an adult. They have to stop discrediting you because of your father.” Imani’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “Besides, why wait? These things take months anyway.”
“My flatmate’s moving to Edinburgh in three weeks,” Cleo said. “The room’s yours if you want it.”
“I can’t afford?—”
“You will.” Imani squinted at her laptop screen. “That childcare consultancy near UCL hires child psychologists. You’re qualified.”
“I don’t have my doctorate yet.”
“You have an undergraduate degree and Tanzania experience.” Cleo’s eyes narrowed like she was fully prepared to march in there and make them. “They’ll hire you.”
“Okay.” I pressed my palm against my eye. “Okay, slow down for a second.”
